The legacy of Cornelius Sigan
by Darkenwood
Summary: Dark Powers left behind by Cornelius Sigan awake and only the Druids' and Merlin's magic can save Uther Pendragon's life and crown. Will the unlikely alliance succeed? Pure fantasy for magic lovers! Updated Rating T for safety for later chapters
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story. The story is therefore rated "K", although I want to have some real combat action in the second half. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please review!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

Introduction

Slowly and painfully, Merlin regained consciousness. The young warlock opened his eyes and found himself face to face with the King of Camelot kneeling at his bedside. As always, he felt small, vulnerable and, in a peculiar way, guilty under Uther Pendragon's scrutinizing look. As always, he had to stifle a sigh of relief when the King's gaze left him.

Uther rose to his feet. "Gaius, he is awake now. But he seems to be still in pain." From somewhere behind the Pendragon the old Court Physician of Camelot shuffled to the bedside, one of his inevitable potions ready in his hand. "Merlin, thank heaven, there you are again. Come on now, drink this!" The King smiled at the young man's grimace. Gaius' potions were Masterpieces when it came to combination of active agents, dosage and digestibility but for their taste….!

Merlin swallowed the lot in one big gulp and laid down on the soft pillow of what he only now identified to be a very luxurious bed. The young warlock actually rested in the room of Camelot's Crown Prince and Uther's only son, Arthur Pendragon. Confused, he looked around him and stroked the satin and velvet bed coverings tentatively. Finally he looked at the two others helplessly. "What happened? Why am I here? And where's Arthur?" He saw the King starting to say something but in this very instant a startling memory came back to him and he jumped out of the bed. "Arthur! He told me to protect you. They are already on the march to destroy Camelot! I must…..must...."

When he collapsed on the floor he found himself in the arms of the King. Stunned and disbelieving he gazed into Uther's worried face. "My Lord….?" He started to say but Uther interrupted him, speaking with more gentleness than Merlin would ever have guessed this man to be capable of. "It's all right, everything is going to be fine, now don't fuss" and with that Uther, of all people, helped him back into the bed. Never letting go of Merlin's gaze the King lowered him down once again. "Now, tell me! Where is my son?"


	2. Disastrous rescues

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story. The story is therefore rated "K", although I want to have some real combat action in the second half. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please review!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

2. Disastrous rescues

All of a sudden the memories virtually flooded Merlin's mind, much too fast and overwhelming. The night Merlin had rescued his royal friend from being abducted by a cheap band of bandits on a Mercian payroll. The warlock had thrown all three attackers to the ground and crushed their necks with ferocious power, but not before one of them had been able to stab him in the back. Arthur, albeit shaken by the sight of his official manservant and unofficial best friend using magic, had recovered surprisingly fast. While Merlin had been helpless in the grip of a healing spell, the Prince had stayed with him, kept him warm and out of harm's way. Then there had been the unfortunate slip of the tongue which had set Uther on the track of what had really happened that night. Merlin had been arrested to be executed for the use of magic, even if it had saved Uther's only son and heir from heaven knows what fate at the hands of his Mercian enemies.

More images raced through Merlin's aching brain. Arthur freeing him from the dungeon. Their escape to Alartrava harbour where they had been recaptured by a detail of Camelot soldiers under the command of Sir Leon of Ravenwood, Camelot's head knight. The Druid magicians freeing them and transporting them to their secret retreat Vayatanu, high up in the far away mountains of Deshlawair.

Arthur's foster sister Morgana and the Master Sorcerer Moredan informing them about the Dark Powers the Mercians had awakened in a moment of utter lunacy and which now where on the march to destroy everything and everyone. The visions of Camelot and everyone in it being destroyed with Uther dying in his son's arms, terribly wounded and in agony.

Arthur's determination to leave Vayatanu to protect his home, his friends and his father in spite of Uther's scorching wrath. The King would inevitably regard the freeing of Merlin as an act of treason, committed by his own son!

Morgana's and the Druids' decision to keep Arthur save in Vayatanu against his will, for the sake of an ancient prophecy. That, many years after the Dark Forces, having fulfilled the vicious circle of murder and destruction, would once again have retreated to their magical sanctuary for millennia to come, only the last of the Pendragons and his sorcerer friend would be able to rebuild Camelot and the human world from the ashes.

And than the final set of images. Merlin breaking the magical seal around Arthur's cell. Their escape. Arthur being caught in the magical barrier that sealed off Vayatanu. The struggling Prince being dragged back into the village, shouting at Merlin to go back to Camelot alone. To protect the Castle and its inhabitants at all costs. With all his power the young magician had reached out for his friend when he initiated the transport spell that was meant to bring them both back home. For the briefest of moments Merlin had felt him in his embrace, warm, strong, safe.

But when he had re-materialized in Camelot and collapsed on the floor, his last clear thought had been that his arms were empty.


	3. The warlock's tale

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story. The story is therefore rated "K", although I want to have some real combat action in the second half. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please review!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

3. The warlock's tale

When Merlin felt the hard slap hit his face he jerked to attention. Uther had taken his face in both hands. Obviously the King had been trying to speak to him for some time now, while he had been overwhelmed by the sudden flood of memories. "STOP IT! Nobody's going to hurt you, you're safe now!" Seeing understanding coming back into the young man's face and eyes, Uther let go of his face. "You're safe now" he repeated much more calmly than before. "I am not going to hurt you in any way and most certainly I won't have you brought back to the dungeons. Believe me, my son running away and being abducted from Leon's hands by God knows whom and where to has taught me a lesson. But you _must_ tell me where he is and how I am to bring him back. Will you do this? As his friend?"

Merlin wiped his face. He hadn't realized that he had been sobbing. Still shaken he stammered "You really believe that now? I mean, that I am his friend? That I would never harm him or you or anyone in Camelot? You know that now? Really?" Uther, at his wit's ends, confirmed it once again. Gaius, hearing the overly indulgent, overly patient tone of voice, laid a warning hand on his King's shoulder. "Sire, I think he's just going to tell you everything, please hear him out."

Merlin felt a sudden rush of energy come to him at the thought that there might be a possibility that Uther would actually listen to him. He sat up on the bed and straightened his back. "Arthur is with the Druids. They want to ……!" But that was as far as he came before Uther sprang to his feet. "I knew it. God damn them all, I knew they would take their petty revenge on Arthur at the first opportunity!" "I wouldn't call their revenge 'petty'. You kill them on sight at _every_ opportunity" Gaius muttered to himself.

Fortunately the King couldn't hear this as Merlin, exasperated by the new misunderstanding drowned both of them out. "They want to protect him. In fact, they are the only ones who might be able to protect us all from the Dark Forces but so far Arthur couldn't convince them, neither to help us, nor to let him go. The Druids think it's wrong to fight violence with violence. They say that using their magic against the Dark Force Cornelius Sigan conjured up centuries ago would infect them with the same evil which finally overwhelmed Cornelius' soul." While this silenced the King no understanding dawned on his face. Gaius looked equally lost.

The Pendragon shook his head despairingly. "This is useless. Obviously the boy is still raving. The fever is speaking out of him. You can call me as soon as you have brought him back to his senses, Gaius. Until then nobody is allowed to know that he is back here!" and he turned towards the door.

Merlin all but jumped on him. "But Sire, I am talking sense. It's all true. Please you must listen to me or we all are going to die." Surprisingly, Uther turned back to him. "Merlin, Cornelius Sigan is dead, or as good as, and from what your uncle told me it was you, not Arthur, who defeated him." Merlin swallowed and felt his face blush. "Yes…., Yes Sire, that's right, it was me!" "Then what impending doom could a defeated magician bring to us now? And what has this to do with my son being in the Druids' hands?"

Merlin swallowed hard. "Please you'll need some patience, but you must hear me out." And then he told them the whole story, as he had learned it from Morgana and the Druids. How the combined forces of Camelot and Mercia once, many centuries ago, had had to face a superior enemy force. How the Kings of that time had beseeched the then Court Magician, Cornelius Sigan, to conjure up magical support for their army. He had done so but in the end they had all gotten much more than they had bargained for.

Sigan had created an army of shadows from the ghosts of dark feelings, dark secrets and dark deeds which had completely destroyed the enemy's army. But once let loose it couldn't be stopped anymore. Feeding on destruction and murder the shadow army had laid the enemy's lands to waste, killing all inhabitants, men, women, children, even the animals. Firestorms had raged across the landscapes and the soil had been poisoned for many years to come. Stronger and stronger the Dark Army had become until it threatened the very realms it had been created to protect. When both realms had faced total annihilation, Sigan had gained the help of the then strong and numerous Druid tribes and their magicians. Together they had been able to paralyze the Dark Forces.

It had needed all their magic abilities to cut the Dark Power that conjured up the shadow soldiers in half and to seal it off in two separate leaden coffins. One had been buried in the vaults deep under Mercia's ancient Royal Castle Arengarde. The other had been buried in the vaults that formed the foundations of Camelot Castle. Both Kings had sworn a solemn oath that neither they nor their descendants should ever reopen the magical sanctuaries that held the horrible force prisoner, because should only one of the coffins ever be reopened the consequences would be monstrous. But should both halves of the Dark Force be ever reunited the world of man as we know it would cease to exist. Only in the most sacred temple districts of the old religion, or so legend had it, the last King of Camelot and his magician might survive to one day rebuild what the greed for power and wealth had once destroyed.

After the coffins had been buried the Druids had once again distanced themselves from the world of ordinary humans. Sigan had resumed his life as Camelot's Court Magician. But there had been a price to pay for what they had done. In order to defeat it they had come to touch the Dark Force and it hadn't let go anymore. First secretly, unnoticed, than stronger and stronger it had eaten away at everyone who had touched it until it had consumed them. First Sigan had had to pay for being the 'human vessel' the Dark Force needed to conjure up its shadow army. To save Camelot, Sigan had been killed by the very King who had ordered him to conjure up the Dark Forces in the first place.

However, the most horrible fate had befallen the Druids. For the first time in their existence they had turned against each other. Temple districts and sacred forests had been destroyed, forest castles and villages burned down with all their eerie beauty lost forever before the dark sorcerers had been subdued. For centuries the Druids and the priests of the old religion had mourned the losses they had had to suffer from an evil which had been brought into the world by belligerent, power greedy human beings. Only then the old religion had made the island of the blessed its most sacred sanctuary until it had been destroyed by a human King named Uther Pendragon. Afterwards most of the old cult's remaining followers and the Druid magicians had retreated to Vayatanu. Only those who, like Nimue, didn't want to surrender their life in the world of humans without a fight had stayed behind.

At this point of his narration, Merlin gazed furtively at Uther's enigmatic face. The King seemed to be lost in thought. Not once he or Gaius had interrupted the warlock's tale so far. Merlin cleared his throat and went on.

Six months ago a young man named Marcus had succeeded to the throne of Mercia after his uncle, the former King, and his two sons had died under dubious circumstances in the space of three months. Not everybody had believed in them dying of natural causes and so Marcus had faced much opposition, open and hidden, at the beginning of his rule. He had feared to be confronted with a war at two fronts when Camelot, Mercia's most powerful neighbour, had refused to acknowledge his rightful succession to the crown. At the news of the Pendragons contacting the other neighbouring realms on the matter, Marcus' fear had become stronger. It had been then that he had remembered the ancient tale of how a former King of Mercia had once conjured up magical support for his army. Knowing perfectly well that Camelot would never take his refuge to magical means – and again Merlin looked at Uther's still unmoving face – he must have thought this to be a perfect last resort. The Pendragon studied his feet. He knew all too well that, at the first news of instability in the country, he had dug out the plans his military commanders had made for an attack on Mercia.

"From this moment on", Merlin continued, "Marcus has been under constant surveillance of the Druid's intelligence network." He ignored Uther's frown at the mentioning of the Druids being able to spy on a King. "They don't know how he did it but he certainly has found the Mercian coffin and he has succeeded in opening it a few weeks ago. Nobody knows with what – or whom – Marcus has fed it, but the Dark Force is awakening. Most probably Marcus is already turning into its 'human vessel' right now. The Druids have felt its Searchers scanning their retreats and the whole of Albion. The magical barriers which protect their retreats are holding up only barely, but they have ways to strengthen them. When the Dark Force has gathered enough strength it will surely turn against Camelot for a reunification with its other half."

Fearing the King's reaction to what he had to say now, Merlin once again cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably on the bed until the King gazed at him with barely concealed anger.

"The Druids are not willing to fight against the Dark Force again. They are adamant that it is their task to keep Arthur safe and to endure what they call the 'time of punishment' in Vayatanu, which they can shield not only from the world but also from time. They think they can endure ten or more years in their retreat which would count for centuries in our world." Merlin lowered his head and murmured "When Arthur realized that they wouldn't let us go he pleaded with them to help you fight the Dark Army but not even Morgana listened to him."

Oblivious of the others exchanging disbelieving looks at the mentioning of King Uther's former ward whom the King had thought to have been kidnapped by her half-sister Morgause, the young warlock brought his narration to an end. "Arthur persuaded me to help him escape. I got away but they caught him and forced him back into the village." With a look able to break a heart made of stone he gazed into Uther's still unreadable face. "Please, you must believe me. The magical barrier was too strong for me. I tried so hard to bring him back with me……" His voice trailed off.

Slowly, deliberately Uther looked up, directly into the young man's desperately pleading face. "So you think that I am going to be mad at you for not being able to bring my son back to a certain death?"


	4. A most unexpected alliance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story. The story is therefore rated "K", although I want to have some real combat action in the second half. I hope you'll enjoy it. Please review!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

4. A most unexpected alliance

"You believe me, then?" Merlin still didn't dare to hope that he might have convinced the Pendragon. While Gaius held his breath, the King pulled five fingers through his hair in a gesture so much like his son's that Merlin's heart missed a beat. "There are still a lot of blank spaces in your story. For one, I don't even pretend to know what these "Searchers" might be." Merlin opened his mouth for an explanation but Uther cut him short "…but from what I could gather so far we are about to be overrun by Mercia's army that is supported by evil magic of immense power in the space of a few weeks from now. Is that correct?" Merlin nodded and muttered "The Druids think it to be two months until they come, at most." "And I am to understand that, albeit the Druids are not going to help us, they have taken my son in a sort of 'protective custody'?" Again this was confirmed by a nod from the warlock.

"And this in turn means that the only thing standing between us and total annihilation, as you so aptly put it, is…..?" Once again staring intently into the younger man's wide eyes Uther had an astonishing insight on what had made his son put his entire trust in his friend even after he had learned that his seemingly idiotic, innocent manservant was a potentially very powerful warlock. Never taking his eyes from the King's face Merlin answered with a somewhat trembling voice. "Yes, Sire, I think the only thing between us and Camelot's downfall is…..me!"

In the silence that followed this bold statement they heard Gaius chuckle. "So King Uther Pendragon is forced to rely on a young magician's help and this magician is the very man who was to be executed for the use of magic a few weeks ago! And this scheduled execution made Camelot's Crown Prince run away, directly into the arms of Camelot's sworn enemies who are now the only ones who can save Arthur Pendragon's life? I don't believe it. That's too good to be true."

Uther growled at this, much as his son most probably would have done under these circumstances. "Go on, Gaius. Turn the knife in the wound once more, this is most helpful." For a moment the King covered his face with both his hands and sighed audibly. "If anyone of you has the slightest idea of how I am to explain all this to my Crown Council and my Army Commanders – I am open for suggestions!"


	5. The definition of evil

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**Chapter 5 Updated:** Really, Uther's war against magic wasn't very wise. Now that Camelot is in desperate need of them, there aren't enough of them left for war. Or for peace? Please review!

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

**5. The definition of evil**

For the umpteenth time Arthur Pendragon paced the vast but sparsely furnished room he was kept in. From the doors to the three huge arched windows overlooking a deep canyon. Turn. Back to the beautifully carved double doors which were not only bolted from the outside but also secured by a magical seal. As was the whole room, including the only seemingly unbarred windows. Turn, and back again to the windows. Walk, turn, walk, turn and walk again, in the vain hope to become tired enough to find some peace from his frustration. No chance!

Five days since Merlin's escape. Five days in which the Prince had tried to make the Druids and the handful of other magicians, including Morgana, realize that they were about to make a terrible mistake. To let Camelot fall would mean to allow the two halves of the Dark Force to merge into one. The Druids couldn't want that, couldn't permit it. In their own best interest they had to make one last stance to save their world as much as the human world. Then, with the Druid's help, Arthur would gain the military support of the other three realms in the Five Kingdoms of Albion, as they would also be consumed by the invincible Dark Force once Camelot had fallen.

He had shouted this simple logic at the Druids' High Council. He had pleaded with them, rationalized with them, tried to manipulate them, trick them and had finally went down to his knees, but it had all come to nothing. Again and again the Druids had replied, maddeningly calm, that they could not contaminate their souls with evil. Violence was not to be fought by violence. Evil was evil, even if it was employed for a seemingly noble cause. "Those who live by the sword will be consumed by it" had been one of the frequent wise replies which had driven Arthur frantic in the end.

Never before in his life had he yelled like that at any living soul. "To stand by and let evil happen; to watch good people die and innocent lives being wasted without so much as lifting a finger, that's what _I_ call evil. Tell me, where is the nobility in cowardice? What's the sacrifice you are going to make for the greater good of which you speak so fondly? I tell you. Nothing! Nothing at all! You make yourself comfortable while others suffer. You will sit fat and cosy in your precious retreat while all the others pay the price. I spit on you!" And so he had done, then and there, right on the the Council Chamber's polished floor.

It had all been in vain. "You don't understand the nature of magic" he had been told. "You are young, and you have been trained to think only as a warrior, so you can't understand our reasons, which result from centuries old experience with magic" others had said. When he couldn't stand it any more he had run out of the Council Chamber. It hadn't helped that he had ran into the light of a seemingly perfect, peaceful autumn day.

Later he had tried to persuade Moredan but also to no avail. The High Councillor of the Druids had talked the most sense in Arthur's opinion but he had also denied his requests. "It's true that we will be sitting in a safe harbour while other people will be suffering" he had said "but you should consider two things: It wasn't us who brought this evil into the world. And second: While you and the other men of the sword have nothing to lose by fighting the Dark Force we would have no chance to win. Even if we were to miraculously defeat Sigan's Dark Power it would be what you may call a 'Pyrrhic victory'. We lost almost a quarter of our population during our first war against the Dark Force and in the subsequent fights against the Obsessed we lost another quarter." Arthur, who knew what Moredan was aiming at, lowered his head and bit his lower lip. "More than half our settlements, sacred districts and forests were destroyed. And that was at a time in which the powerful magicians were numerous in our tribes and other humans well trained in magic abilities flocked to us and aided us in our struggles. Since then, many things have changed. The Island of the Blessed is in ruins and the Old Religion has been almost eradicated by people like your father." Seeing the young Prince wince at that, the old Master Sorcerer raised a mollifying hand. "Please believe me I am not saying this to shift the blame from us to you. But you must understand that your father's and other people's "war against magic" has led to our people, even our children, being killed on sight. This policy hasn't exactly increased our number over the years."

Arthur had gazed into the old man's face and the bitter smile on it. Suddenly he had felt helpless. Knowing that Moredan had defeated him he had started to beg, hating himself for it as well as the old man for forcing him to degrade himself so. "If you can't help us please let me go. I can't just stand by and watch everything I ever cherished go to oblivion, just like that. Please, you must let me go." The Master Sorcerer had pondered the request for a second, than he had sadly shaken his head. Enraged beyond endurance Arthur had tried to get a hold of him, but Moredan had simply vanished into thin air, leaving Camelot's Crown Prince to the childish behaviour of kicking and hitting uselessly against the double doors. The massive wood had swallowed all sounds of human anger and despair.

It needed hours of pacing before physical exhaustion won over wrath and worries. The young man dropped to the floor and laid his head on his arms. For the first time in his life the young Pendragon, used to be obeyed at his first command, silently admitted complete defeat. He had no idea of what to do next. The one thing he knew for sure was that he would not live to see his home and the world as he knew it being destroyed. His thoughts went out to Merlin. Would Uther have believed him? Would he accept the help of a magician? He snorted derisively at his own thoughts. If the whole Druid community and the leftovers of the Old Religion didn't dare to lift a finger against the legacy of Cornelius Sigan, what should one young 'warlock-in-training' be able to achieve?

So Arthur Pendragon was once again lost in fruitless, tormenting musing, when suddenly the doors were opened. As, so far, Moredan, with or without his captive, had always entered and left the room through the solid wall the surprise brought the Prince to his feet immediately.

Morgana stood in the door frame, looking tired and utterly weary. "I think you have won after all, brother. As of this moment the Council has decided to fight against the Dark Forces, side by side with Camelot and hopefully the other realms of Albion." Disbelievingly Arthur asked her to repeat that. She went into the room and closed the door behind her. "Moredan told you that the magical barrier which is meant to shield Vayatanu from the Dark Force is created by a circle of the most powerful Druid magicians alive?" Her brother nodded silently. "Well, it seems as if their spells' power will not suffice in the end. You remember our last contact with the Searchers?" Arthur shuddered at the memory of the brief but devastating contact with the entity the Dark Force sent out frequently to identify its potential enemies' whereabouts and strength. "I see that you do. The latest projections based on the power of this contact are very clear. Almost immediately after the two halves of the Dark Force have merged, the magical barrier will be overwhelmed and everything and everyone in Vayatanu will be vulnerable to the Shadow Army's onslaught."

She hugged the stunned Prince. "There will be no safe harbour after all, for nobody. They will be touched by the Dark Force wherever they turn, whatever they do." She hadn't used this small, frightened voice since she had been six years old. "Morgause and some others do not want to die or be consumed like lambs are led to the slaughter." Inwardly, her brother flinched at the thought that her powerful sorceress sister had arrived, although it had been clear that this was going to happen. Her face buried in his shoulder, she didn't notice his apprehension. "They discussed it for hours on end and now the Council is divided. A small majority has decided to prevent the merging of the two halves, even if this means to fight and kill. They will ask their people who will follow Morgause into the fight and who will stay here to wait for the inevitable. Tomorrow we will know."

She tightened her embrace. "You can't imagine what contact with the Dark Force means for a magician." Feeling her tremble, he pulled her even closer and stroked her back, not knowing what else he could do for her. "Big brother, I am so sad" and he hardly recognized her usually strong, persuasive voice.

"So am I, little sister. So am I." Silently jubilant for the sake of Camelot, he blushed at the lie only inwardly.


	6. A Court Magician's job description

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot: Chapter VI updated now! **Be careful what you wish for, you could get it! Merlin always wanted to be appreciated, not pursued for his magic. Does he still want that? Please review!

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

6. A Court Magician's job-description

In the end the King decided to stick to the time-honoured principle of "strictly-need-to-know'. Despite all his fancy explanations of why this policy was the wisest, Merlin suspected Uther of outright cowardice. Oh, to think of the King having to explain to Camelot's leading elite that high and mighty Uther Pendragon, of all people, was in an alliance with his son's manservant. Magician manservant, at that. And a convicted evil doer only a short time ago. Gaius was right. It was too good to be true. "Sic transit gloria mundi" the young warlock thought in spite of the dire situation while he watched Uther squirm and writhe.

In practice 'strictly-need-to-know' would mean that Uther would mobilise his army immediately, telling his Guard Commander to call all knights and soldiers in active service to the castle under the pretext of an inner crisis. At the same time the evacuation of the outlying villages between Camelot Castle and the Mercian border would begin. "That Uther should think of that" Merlin silently wondered. "Arthur isn't even here!" However his illusions of the King becoming a human being were instantly crushed.

"We will exploit the fact that Camelot's Mercian border region is Crown Country. We will offer an alarming sickness of the crops as an explanation for our people bringing in the harvest early. Every village will be told that the sickness is already spreading in the others. Our people will then leave their villages and bring along all the harvest and their other provisions. The provisions will be stored in the castle while we will try our best to accommodate the villagers somewhere outside the city walls. This will be our best chance to persuade any Mercian spy that we are afraid of a famine, brought about us by the crop sickness. This will also cover up for the military mobilisation. Especially King Marcus will appreciate the necessity of a Ruling House to safeguard itself against a rebellion of a hungry population."

The King paused and rubbed his weary eyes. "At the same time I will despatch orders to all the great Barons of the realm to prepare the military details they owe to our Crown to be sent to Camelot Castle at very short notice. We will also inform them that their estates have nothing to fear from the crop disease as long as there is no exchange of people, animals or other goods between the Mercian border region and other parts of the country. For trade, they have to bring their goods, especially the vitals, to Camelot and we decide on the safety of a trade exchange. By that, we will fill up our stores even better for what could be a prolonged siege, without any one being the wiser. What people don't know, a spy cannot find out." The King frowned while thinking about what other steps would be necessary.

"We will also advise our much beloved barons that, to avoid unnecessary panic, they should not tell their people anything about the crop disease but inform them that we are going to have a great military parade here to impress one of the other Kings. Let's hope that with these measures we can stifle contact between the border region and the other parts as much as is humanly possible. As of now, no servant or other inhabitant of Camelot Castle or the city is allowed to move outside the city walls. All carrier pigeons are to be delivered to our Guard Commander by tomorrow morning, at penalty of indefinite incarceration."

Against his will, Merlin admired the straight forward thinking behind all that. There was only one point he didn't get so far. "Sire, why would the lie about a famine be more convincing if we were to 'accommodate' the villagers outside the city walls, while all provisions are stored inside the castle? Wouldn't it be more logical to have the people also inside the castle, where we could take better care of them in case of a provision shortage?" With a sarcastic grin the King snorted derisively. "Spoken like a servant. And as a trusted friend of my son, I grant you that. But, you see, we _**must **_convince Mercia's King, and perhaps some of the other Kings and aristocrats that we are indeed facing a famine. Now those 'people of nobility' have their own set of logic. Naturally _they_ would bring in the provisions and keep the people outside. Or do you really think, if it were King Olaf who had to face a famine, he would refuse his precious daughter Vivian, the stupid brat, her daily strawberries with double cream in order to feed a few peasants?"

Wide eyed and speechless Merlin audibly shut his hanging jowl. Having always felt secure in his morale superiority over King Uther-the-monster, he felt the brutal simplicity of this truth hit him like a blow to his face.

Obviously Gaius found it wise to give the conversation another direction. "Sire, if I may ask something?" "Go ahead." "I wonder whether this ruse, although it admittedly does sound convincing, has any chance of success. Surely we will be confronted not only with Mercia's usual intelligence network but also with magical methods of espionage. What are we to do against that?"

The King nodded and turned to Merlin. "This will be your first task. While I will do everything in my power to keep the circle of people who know the real reasons behind our actions as small as possible you will look out for magical espionage to the best of your abilities. Scan for it or try to sense it or whatever it is you sorcerers do in such circumstances. If you find anything or anyone you will destroy it or him at once, completely and as silently as possible. It would be best if nobody were to learn that you are here until the very last moment. I'll need you to shield Camelot from the onslaught of the magic forces you spoke of while our knights and guards hopefully defeat the Mercian soldiers and kill King Marcus. Now are your orders clear or is there anything you do not understand?"

Merlin felt as if his head began to spin, his feet were leaving the floor and his knees buckled. An icy, freezing feeling crawled up his spine, his stomach turned and bile rose in his throat, all at once. "What...." he stuttered "what...." and again his voice forsook him.

Suddenly the shock was substituted by total panic, paired with a horrible wrath at this … man's, this outrageous …..creature's unbelievable arrogance. And than cheerful, friendly, gentle Merlin flew into the Pendragon's face.

"_What _do you want me to do? What do you think I am, the whole Druid army in disguise? After all these purges, these.... executions you think you can simply order me to do the impossible on your behalf? Not so long ago your own son went down to his knees to beg for my life but you would hear nothing of it! Now that it is _**you**_ who's on his knees you shift it all onto me, as if it were perfectly natural for me to sacrifice myself for you and your Crown! You wanted to burn me alive for saving Arthur's life and now you want me to kill at random, for your say so? I've never been the monster you saw in me and I am surely not willing to become the monster you want me to be, now that it's to your advantage."

He started to sob and, shaking his head violently, he backed away from the silent King and held up both hands defensively. "Have you any, ANY idea of what you're demanding of me? Haven' t you still got it into your brain what we are up against?  
I can't do this on my own....I ..." and suddenly, as if jumping on him from behind, the memory of his first contact with a Searcher engulfed his mind as if it were happening all over again, in this very moment.

It had been three days since Merlin's and Arthur's arrival in the Druids' mountain retreat. Feeling more content than he had felt for a long time, the young warlock was humming the latest favourite of Camelot's servants' hall to himself while strolling through the brake and brush of Vayatanu's sacred forests. The light filtered through the leaves that whispered soothingly in a light breeze and the woods were filled with mysterious sounds and the singing of unknown birds. The forest was especially beautiful at this summer afternoon, with herbs and flowers unknown to the curious potion-wielder-to be. The magician saw an especially interesting looking herb which might be just right for inspection of its potential use in magic (or non-magic at that) potions. Having collected it as well as some other herbs and flowers, he looked around him. If he had a short rest now he would be back in time for supper.

Merlin entered a beautiful clearing which lay ahead of him and, with a contented sigh, settled down in a sunny spot between two tree stumps. Dreamily following the contour of the tree rind with his slender fingers the magician let his mind wander, watching the butterflies that were dancing like jewels in the air. Just for fun he conjured up some more with his magic. They all swirled and whirled around before his eyes, and he got lost in a fairy-world beauty that was only for him.

Suddenly, the sun was gone. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, incredibly fast. No bird sang any more and all the butterflies had vanished. An icy cold emanated from the ground which only minutes ago had been warm and inviting. Like an unnatural caress by ghostly fingers the cold touched his skin, his hair, his eyes and wandered down his spine until he felt agonized by sheer, unprecedented horror. Distant at first but then nearer and nearer the terrified young man heard eerie voices. They surrounded him, engulfed him and his thoughts. They whispered of dead and evil, but most of all of utter loneliness and a bitterness beyond imagination. As if every betrayal, every lie, abandonment and disappointment which had ever pained a human heart throughout the ages had been brought together in a single dreadfully possessive spirit. A harrowing sense of hatred ran through Merlin. His soul seemed to scream while his body couldn't make a sound. Images of burning castles and towns, of human beings killed and tortured and of once beautiful landscapes laid to waste came into being in his tortured mind. With nameless horror he recognized Camelot. Guinivere, whom Arthur loved, his own Uncle Gaius and all the others he had come to cherish in the two years he had lived in the Pendragon stronghold died while he watched helplessly. With silent, burning tears running down his face he saw the last picture conjure itself up before his inner eye. The image was that of the two Pendragons, father and son, bleeding to death in the castle's throne room.

Then, as sudden as it had all begun, everything was gone. Heart hammering in his aching body the young warlock lay on the once again warm and cosy ground, sobbing. His wide eyes stared into the sunlight and the gently moving tree tops.

Completely oblivious to Uther's and Gaius' attempts to speak to him, Merlin remembered that he had run; run as he had never run before. Arthur, who often sneered at his friend's ability to stumble on even ground at the mere mentioning of an obstacle wouldn't have believed his eyes had he seen the young warlock run and jump through the brushwood without ever loosing a step. His magic cleared away every hindrance without him even noticing it. When he reached the village he panted heavily with exhaustion. Stumbling into Moredan's house he met the old man kneeling on the floor. "It has begun" he whispered "Oh, great mother, it has already begun."

This had been the hour in which Merlin and Arthur had finally learned the truth about what was to come.

When he shook out of his reverie he found himself once again face to face with the King. Uther was scrutinizing him. At some moment during his outbreak they must have brought him to a chair, for he found himself sitting, slumped over. Merlin wiped his face with his hand while the Pendragon rose to his feet. Suddenly the young man felt terribly ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry" he muttered "I shouldn't have.... I'm sorry. It's not that I want to let you down. It's just that I am so......." "Afraid?" Uther coldly completed his sentence for him. "Don't you think we are afraid,too ? What do you want us to do? Quit? Bend our heads to the slaughterer's knife and be done with it? Do you think that's what Arthur would do if he were here right now?"

Even under the last sobs he couldn't suppress Merlin felt fresh anger rise in him. Slowly looking up at Uther's cold and angry eyes he hissed "oh, but you _are_ a devil, are you not, Uther Pendragon!"

Ignoring Gaius' attempts to calm him he got up from the chair and slowly slunk towards the King like a wild cat. "You know that you only need to mention your son to manipulate me, don't you. You heartless monster, like hell you cared for what Arthur felt when you made ready to kill me. Like hell you cared for him when you sent out your men to catch him, toss him up, gag him and throw him over a horse's saddle. When you ordered them to drag the Crown Prince of Camelot to your feet as if he were an animal finally hunted down for your personal satisfaction!" Trembling from head to toe with rage he gazed into the Pendragon's pale face and his voice became louder and louder. "And now, that it suits your purpose, you want to teach me, ME of all men, what your son would want and what he would _feel_? You are....you are..."

"I am the King of Camelot!" With an abrupt and angry gesture Uther ripped the golden Crown Circlet from his head and pressed it into Merlin's hands. "It was you who told us that we are facing a danger more lethal than we have ever met before. It was you who told us that my son will not be able to come to our aid _and_ that his last order to you was to aid us in his place. _You_ confirmed that you are the only one standing between us and utter destruction. Now you have my Crown, my Kingdom and, yes, unfortunately it is the simple truth, Arthur's existence in your hands. Now, my young and oh so lofty friend, you tell me, how does it feel?" He pressed the circlet even harder into Merlin's cold fingers. "This thing you are holding now has been behind everything I did to my son. Gaius tells me that you wanted nothing more than to be appreciated for what you really are, for what you are capable of. And now, in the very moment our life is in your hands, and yours alone, all the powerful sorcerer can do is WHINE?"

Both speechless now, both fighting for breath the two men stood locked eye to eye for a very long moment. Then Merlin passed back the circlet as if it were burning hot to the touch. He backed away a step, than shook his head, as if to get rid of a spider's web he had ran into. When he looked up again, his face was calm. " Well then, My Lord. If it's a Court Warlock you want, a Court Warlock you shall have. I can most certainly use cover spells to hide my presence while I investigate castle and city for possible magic espionage and when the attack comes I will do my best to stall for more time for your military forces to get rid of the Dark Force's human vessel. I should also be able to point out this human vessel to you, if I survive the onslaught of the Dark Magic long enough."

While Gaius let his chin fall to his chest and mumbled something inarticulate Uther simply nodded. "Very well, that's what I wanted to hear. Stay here with Gaius, out of sight while I am gone to inform Sir Leon as Guard Commander of what is on foot and the Crown Council that we are facing a serious food crisis due to a crop disease. I'll come back later that night and we can talk over the details of our battle plans."

He made for the door when Merlin's carefully controlled voice stopped him once more. "Sire, there is one last thing we have to discuss first!" "We can talk about your salary later, if that's what you mean." Merlin didn't even try to smile at the lame joke. "Sire, there is the possibility that the Dark Force overwhelms me and turns my powers against you. Should that be the case...." he inhaled deeply "should that be the case I must be killed immediately, before I can do much damage. Please.." and now his voice trembled the slightest bit in spite of him."I want you to promise me that neither you nor Arthur, should he join us after all, will be the one who ends my life. Let it be somebody else."

Uther stared at him for a second, then gave only a curt nod as a promise and made once again for the door. "You know Gaius, it won't be easy to convince the Crown Council that having a Court Magician is really all that compatible with the ban against magic. I really must give this some thought, once we all will have survived our private little Armageddon here."


	7. Mercia

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story. .

**Warning: I've been told that this story consists only of "gruesome bad metaphors and empty talk". Please tell me your ****(honest!) ****opinion.**** True or no? ****Please review!**

**The legacy of Cornelius Sigan**

**7. Mercia**

Far away, in Mercia's Royal Castle Arengarde, something stirred. It had been human once but memories of these times were fading. Under the silken cloth, the regal state and jewels another being took possession of body and soul that had been Marcus, King of Mercia. Slowly, oh, so slowly. But not much longer now, no, not much. The being softly chuckled to itself. The fools, the utter fools. Right in front of them, right under their noses, it had begun to consume the young King who had come to its resting place, trusting like a harebrained mouse, snivelling, whining, weak but greedy, very greedy...

The being murmured to itself of those times long past, when the others had called it into the world, those who had been greedy too, lusting for power and strength. It had betrayed them all. Their lands it had consumed, their flesh and blood had been its prey and it had feasted on their fear, their weakness, their useless pleas, oh how it had feasted on every single shred of their useless existence. The creature stretched itself under the human skin, extended itself to all parts of the body it nested in, comfortable in the warmth, the softness of the flesh and the silent tormented cries of the mind trapped in it. Not much longer now. Then the cries would be silenced forever.

But others would come to cry and plea, yes, countless others. The creature's wrath made the skin of the human body ripple like a corpse would be by the worms crawling in it. All the being's enemies would have to pay for their past victory. They had defeated it once but they would not defeat it again. Their pathetic magical powers would be useless against the renewed strength of the Dark Force and the Shadow Army would march once again to scorch the earth.

The creature relished in the thought of its Searchers coming back to merge once again with the Dark Energy which lived in the being's core, telling what they had found in the outside world. Some things hadn't changed at all. Humans were belligerent, greedy, treacherous. It would be so easy to take advantage of them. Other things had changed a lot. Where once had been an ocean of warm light, formed by the wood settlements, temples and sacred forests of the enlightened ones there was only cold now, darkness, empty vastness. All the warmth and beauty gone. Humans had done this, humans were still doing this and humans would go on to do this until their own death would stop their murderous behaviour that had destroyed their only chance for survival.

The Searchers had spread visions of terror, war, blood, destruction and despair all over the country that once had harboured the enlightened ones. They had searched to stir up the young King of the legends, the King who would survive to finally put an end to the glorious Dark Rule, the King who would reunite what had been separated by human foolishness and who would heal the scars of past injustice. But the Searchers had found nothing. Only short glimpses of what might have been but wasn't any more. Glimpses of a young Prince and young knights striving for peace and justice but who only lived in peoples' hearts, as a memory or a dream. High up in the mountains, where the legendary King were to be found, the Searchers had cast their most vicious spells and their most evil visions but nothing had disturbed the tranquillity of the serene mountain landscape. No terrified human being had tried to run from the sacred forest's shelter, no magician's power had instinctively lashed out at the evil attacker, thereby betraying his whereabouts and strength.

The being laughed when the Searchers projected their findings into its mind. Vayatanu, the place from where the end had once come to the Dark Rule, was no more. It could not be found, not even as a faded memory in the human heart. There was a King in Camelot but he was old, forsaken and alone. His memories of a son and heir were memories of loss and betrayal. He himself had expelled the happiness and friendship that could have saved him and his castle. Camelot's glorious triad of a King, a warrior and a great warlock was what it had always been: An insignificant legend.

The creature lazed around self-indulgently inside the human hull. The Searchers had taken strength and energy away. They had slowed down its full awakening considerably. Now there would be no more Searchers until the day it stood before Camelot's walls to reclaim its other half from the presumptuous humans who held it captive. Then the Searchers would once more cast their spells and visions for all to behold and despair, not only for the enlightened ones.

Until then the creature would bide its time. 'King Marcus' would mobilise the Mercian army, negotiate with King Alined for an alliance and pretend to rule this pathetic excuse for a Kingdom. Finally 'King Marcus' would lead 'his' army towards Camelot. Doubtlessly the poor fools would cheer at the 'King's' wondrous ability to bring down the Pendragon stronghold's walls with a word and a small gesture of the hands. They would probably even cheer at the confusion of Camelot's defenders caused by the Searchers' visions and mental torments. Of course there would be the triumphant moment when the two halves would once again merge and the Shadow Army would rise from the ground, invincible, immortal and insatiable. The cheering would cease then. Humans who were consumed by the Shadow Warriors never cheered. They screamed. At least until their throats were ripped out of their necks.

Oh yes, their moment of victory would be brief. Only the short hour between Camelot's fall, the Pendragon's death and the reunion of the two halves; nothing more. The creature smiled and King Marcus' face drew back his lips in a malicious sneer. Then the human body rose from the bed he had been resting on and went over to the huge mirror in one corner of the room.

Inwardly the creature raged in disgust and humiliation as it erased all outer signs of its existence from the young man's body that had become its vessel. It ceased to move and wriggle under the human skin. The huge black eyes shrank to normal size, the orbs showing their former light, watery blue. Seemingly the red blood of life came back to hanging cheeks. White fangs slipped back behind blackened lips which slowly became red and soft again. Ghostly white skin regained its normal colour. Claws relaxed to become human hands once more. The terrifying look of menace and hatred vanished from the face. When the creature checked its appearance in the mirror it was the picture of a slightly obese, not very clever and somewhat terrified young man that looked back.

For one second the creature allowed itself to draw comfort from the thought that it wouldn't need human form any more once the reunion of the two halves was complete. Then the necessity to feast on human blood every night would end, too. It couldn't go on indefinitely anyway. Someday or some night it would be one worthless human too many who disappeared in or near the castle and even those stupid fools would grow suspicious. But the being didn't care much for that. Not long any more, now. No, not long.

Eyes sparkling with joy at the pitiful cries of the human soul hopelessly trapped in the obsessed body the creature left the room and headed for the inner castle. So much to do and so little time. Mercia awaited orders from her King.

It was only a few hours before Merlin escaped from Vayatanu that a country began to seriously get ready to wage war on Camelot!


	8. The storm begins

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)

**A/N:** I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!

**As to the plot of this story:** After I wrote 'Abandoned' – my first fanfiction ever – as a mostly "Arthur-centred" piece, I wanted to write a story that focuses more on Merlin and on magic. The result is, as I fear, less tragic and dramatic than "Abandoned", but then it is also more "canon" than my first story.

**Warning: I've been told that this story consists of "gruesome bad metaphors and empty talk". Please tell me your (honest!) opinion. ****Please review!**

For those who read my message that presently I have no spare time whatsoever to complete this story as I have much more pressing things to do. I just couldn't resist! Seems as if I'm hooked to writing this stuff!

**8. The storm begins**

Almost two months had passed since Merlin had become the unofficial Pendragon Court Magician. He still couldn't believe he was alive, in Camelot and using magic, all at the same time. His frantic attempts to find any unnatural surveillance in or around the stronghold had left him exhausted. He hadn't felt anything at all, let alone anything that could compare with the Searcher that had passed him by in Vayatanu's sacred forest.

He followed the King's wishes to the letter, although he despised himself for it. When he didn't use a cover spell to move around, eavesdropping at people talking, visiting taverns to look for strangers who might have slipped through the travel ban, he lived hidden away in Arthur's room. Only Gaius sometimes visited him in the nights, when nobody was around. Slowly, but surely this became somewhat oppressive, to say the least; especially as no Arthur was around.

Merlin missed the royal prat more than he would ever care to admit. It somehow created an unlikely bond between him and Uther. Every time the King entered the room to meet with his 'Court Magician' his eyes, wandered around for the split of a second, as if he were expecting against all odds to see his son. If that happened, Merlin's heart inevitably went out to the man and all the sour remarks at the King keeping him virtually prisoner died away on his lips, unspoken.

The Court had become used to the King visiting his absent son's room quite regularly in the evenings and the wise heads nodded sagely and sadly at the new habit. Everybody thought that the King silently mourned his son there. Uther had refused to mention Arthur ever since Leon had brought the message that the young man had been abducted, obviously by magical means. The King's stubborn silence robbed courtiers and servants of any opportunity to openly mourn the Prince themselves but at the same time it assured them of the father being convinced that his son was lost. Why else should there be no search party, no messengers riding to other castles for news? Surely the King could not be so enraged at his son's betrayal - if one could call the freeing of the young manservant a betrayal - that he didn't care any more what had become of Arthur?

So the Court of Camelot was under a spell of gloom while the preparations for the expected 'famine' went along according to plan, much to King Uther's secret relief. Actually he was grateful for his people's misguided mourning as it offered a perfect excuse for his, at times, peculiar behaviour. Even his more than normal snappiness was forgiven because everybody thought it to be caused by Arthur's absence in these times of trouble. The harvest continued to pour in and slowly the storage rooms were filled to the roof. The castle made ready for a siege without anyone realizing it. Some knights and other military officers began to wonder what might be the real plan behind these measures but, so far, they wondered in private.

One evening Merlin had asked whether an open battle in the field might be a better solution, but Uther had seen no benefit in that. He couldn't force Marcus of Mercia to engage in open battle but, regarding the landscape in question, the Mercians could easily evade a meeting with the Pendragon forces and attack Camelot Castle while it was divested of its troops. At the same time, a preventive strike at Arengarde was impossible. King Marcus could easily hold out in his castle while the Pendragon forces would suffer from a prolonged siege. Nobody knew _what _magic powers the Mercians would be able to employ but it was probable that they would grow stronger over time. Therefore Uther stuck to his original decision to make an as strong as possible stand in Camelot, to defend the coffin of the Dark Power's other half. All strength would be invested in getting through to the Dark Power's human vessel and kill him. Hopefully this would immobilize the first half, so that Merlin could contain it again. Gaius searched the forbidden books day and night for a possibility to do this. The final idea, once the Dark Power would be immobilized, was that Merlin would persuade the Druids to further safeguard both coffins and to finally destroy them, so that no human being could ever again be tempted to use them.

Alone in his room at night the Pendragon could hardly believe that his Kingdom and his life had come to rely exclusively on a servant boy's ability to use forbidden magic in the very core of Camelot. Deep inside his heart the proud, self-reliant King began to feel torturing remorse at the memories of what he had done when Merlin's magic had first been discovered. Arthur had been devastated that his slip of the tongue should have brought his friend - and the boy _was_ his son's friend as Uther realized only now - to the scaffold. He had pleaded with his father, begged him as he had never done before. The King cringed at the memory of what he had said to his son. Words like treason, disinheritance and disowning reverberated in Uther's head, but now they were almost too shameful to be remembered. As were the orders he had given to a disgusted Sir Leon as to _how_ his son was to be brought back to Camelot. Merlin had been right. He _had_ ordered his knights to drag his only child back home like a captured animal to the cage. Now he couldn't for the life of him remember what he had actually thought he was doing.

Due to the fruitless, exhausting brooding, the message of Mercian forces crossing the border to Camelot didn't cause only dread and anticipation but also a peculiar kind of relief. The dices were rolling now and the time for brooding was over.

While the enemy's forces overran the outlying villages and abandoned settlements Uther called the last outstanding forces from the barons to Camelot and indeed they came. As Uther had resigned to long before he couldn't take full command of them as they were accompanied by the barons who 'owned' them. The nobles and their families didn't want to be outside the strongest walls in the country when the foreign army attacked. Besides, with the Pendragon army concentrated in the capital, the attackers wouldn't be able to pass Camelot Castle without laying siege to it, which would force them to postpone their march towards other parts of the realm. Now Merlin could daily see for himself how right Uther had been when he had told the magician about the nobles' attitude towards the peasants who camped outside the castle walls.

The day came on which the lower town was cut off from the inner town and the Castle itself by closed drawbridges, boarded up gates and barricades. All battlements were manned, hot pitch was ready and virtually every person the castle could at least hope to maintain for a while was stuffed inside the stronghold. The peasants and the people in the lower town were left to fend for themselves as best they could, which meant, they didn't stand a chance. The Mercian army had arrived at the outskirts of Camelot itself!

Uther confronted the appalled Crown Council with Merlin's presence and informed them brusquely of the magician's role in the military defence and possible counter attacks in the upcoming battles. That the enemy also had magical support – and a gruesome one at that – he kept to himself. The Council Members were still stupefied with the unexpected development when the King dissolved the Council for the time of the military crisis.

The officers and knights had fewer qualms to content themselves with a magician being at the side of the most magic-hating King in all Albion. Although King Alined hadn't dared to join 'King Marcus' openly in the field he had lent him money at an outraging rate of interest and Mercia had hired mercenaries. Many mercenaries. Mercia's forces now outnumbered Camelot's troops almost two to one. At these odds any help was welcome.

It couldn't be said that the Mercians lost any time over their assault against the lower town and its wretched inhabitants. The being that posed as King Marcus feasted on victims taken at random, people who wouldn't be missed, at least not by the Mercians.

Merlin felt the unholy creature relish in the bloodshed. He re-lived the vision the Searcher had cursed him with in Vayatanu over and over again. The screams, the fire and destructions he had seen in his mind became a horrible reality. Again and again he begged the King for permission to at least try to use his abilities to defend the lower town and the outlying peasant camps. Alas, Merlin had been imprudent enough to inform the Pendragon about the relativity of his own physical and mental endurance to the magical power he could muster. Uther, with his quick strategist mind, at once realized what this meant: His magician could be defeated and finally killed even without the creature's magical resistance, by sheer exhaustion. So, again and again the King refused to give permission to interfere. His last resort should not show himself to the creature until it was absolutely inevitable. It was a miracle anyway that the creature so far seemed not to know that a magician was in the besieged castle, and a strong one, at that.

Military logic had taken over the rule of Camelot and Merlin, finding it as hateful as incontestable, settled for its demands, albeit with utter reluctance.

As if it had read his opponent's thoughts the creature refrained from using its own magical powers to support the Mercian forces. After three days, when some of the enemy soldiers had been foolish enough to disperse throughout the lower town looting, raping and, fortunately, drinking, Uther ordered one sortie after another and for a while the losses which could be inflicted on the Mercians satisfyingly outnumbered the losses Camelot's troops had to suffer. The moment the Mercians brought in reinforcements Uther ordered his own forces to retreat. As long as the creature withheld its magical powers there was hope that the Mercian losses would even out their superior numbers further once they tried to storm the strong and well-defended fortifications. Naturally this would only work if the storm began before Camelot's provisions ran out. "Starved soldiers make bad defenders" became Uther's mantra.

It became obvious that the creature didn't know much about strategy. What for? When it had first been called into being the Kings and leaders of Camelot and Mercia had, together with Cornelius Sigan, ordered it around as had been befitting to their plans. Later it had had its sneaking technique and the element of surprise as well as the unendurable horror it could create. Besides, it hadn't been cut in two halves then. Naturally it could feed on the talents and intelligence of its human vessel but, other than with Sigan's brilliant mind, there wasn't much to feed on in young Marcus.

Therefore the creature fell victim to its own impatience. Against the advice of all 'his' officers and councillors 'King Marcus' ordered the storm on Camelot's perfectly intact fortifications within seven days from the first attack on the lower town. The Mercian losses were appaling (from the Mercian perspective) as well as very encouraging (from Camelot's perspective) during the first few days of the attacks. As the creature didn't differentiate between its own troops and the defending forces it gave a damn but then the so far advantageous impatience turned against the Pendragon stronghold.

'King Marcus' decided to crush the offending resistance once and for all. The creature's desire for a reunion with its second half was no longer controllable. Only two weeks after the initial attacks, the being began its magical assault against the fortifications in great confidence. However, it was in for a surprise.

As soon as it tried to shake the battlements' and walls' foundations it met a resisting will. It was outraged as it realized that the stronghold harboured a magician who had somehow escaped the attention of its Searchers.

Inside Camelot Merlin concentrated all his strength on conjuring up and maintaining the most powerful protective spell Gaius had been able to find in the ancient books he had saved when Uther had destroyed the retreats of the Old Religion. The magical war had begun in earnest.

True enough; the human vessel was still vulnerable to a physical attack. But unfortunately the creature wasn't foolish enough to expose itself. For all the grand plans Uther had made – 'King Marcus' stayed well behind the lines of 'his' own troops. With the Mercian army still outnumbering the Camelot forces, not even the most desperate sortie would stand a chance to come that far. The creature was hopelessly out of reach!

Feeling the spell draining power from him, slowly but as sure as death, Merlin knew that there was no hope that his endurance would outlast the creature's unnatural strength. He had lost the desperate fight right from the start. Step by step his ability to protect the fortifications would fail him. One by one the walls would fall. In the end the creature would be free to let its troops lose on the refugees and the defenceless remainder of the castle inhabitants. Meanwhile it would reunite with its other half. Subsequently, all hell would break lose.

For all he was worth the young magician fought on. Not even he himself knew why he should fight so hard only to slow down the inevitable.


	9. And the prophet has come to the mountain

9..And the mountain has come to the prophet…

Arthur was just one step away from pure insanity. It had taken him and Morgana a month to bring these forces together and this didn't include the time the Druids had needed to decide whether or not they wanted to go down fighting. Now those Druids who had decided to join the fighters, some other people with and without magical gifts Morgause had led to the cause and, finally, a third of King Olaf's army had finally begun to get ready to reinforce Camelot.

That King Olaf should be willing to put such a significant part of his forces at risk was almost incomprehensible. Arthur didn't delude himself. Neither his talents as a negotiator nor his personal charm had done the trick. Olaf truly and unselfishly regarded Camelot as a befriended country and a close ally. Naturally it hadn't been harmful that he knew the old legend of Sigan's legacy and that he was familiar enough with magic and Druid traditions to believe what Morgana and her sister had told him. Even so Arthur could flatter himself for one thing - without the presence of the Crown Prince of Camelot as verification for the magicians' story, Olaf most probably would have kept his troops in the barracks.

Now it seemed as if it had all been for nothing. The intelligence Olaf had recently received made it perfectly clear that the Mercian army would beat Arthur and his men on their way to Camelot by at least six weeks. Nobody in the combined forces believed that Camelot could endure that long. The last defenders would have been fallen long before that.

With an effort Arthur refrained from yelling at somebody. "There must be a way to reach Camelot faster than on the normal roads or pathways. I just can't believe that with so many magicians and trained, seasoned warriors among us no one should be able to come up with something."

If he had learned one thing in all these maddening negotiations and council meetings it had been that a little flattering your allies never harmed and often helped to get things done.

The usual 'uhms' and 'ahms', the usual head scratching and the usual exchange of knowing glances – isn't-he-naïve-what-do-you-want-the-boy-is-just-22 – and, also as usual, it all led to nothing.

When the fruitless talks about everything which would _not_ work began again, Arthur gave up listening. He leaned back in his chair and relinquished himself to his fears for virtually everything and almost everyone he'd ever loved and cherished.

He only looked up when something very _unusual_ disturbed his musings: Everyone in Olaf's Council Chamber had fallen silent.

A small, old, fragile and unobtrusive looking man had entered the room and stood by the door. Arthur sympathized with every person present who didn't recognize this forlorn figure for what he was. A Master Sorcerer. _The_ Master Sorcerer, in fact and High Councillor of the Druids. Moredan.

As, for once, Morgana and her sister were absent Arthur rose to greet the Druid. "Welcome, Moredan. To what do we owe the honour of your visit?"

"I heard you have succeeded in raising an army against our common foe?"

"Yes" the Prince acknowledged "but of what concern is this to you? The day you released me from captivity in Vayatanu you told me that for you and the other members of the Druids' High Council violence would never be the answer."

Moredan smiled sadly. "Since then we – or should I say I – have had some time to think. I cannot, in fact I must not, speak for the other elders of my people but as for myself I can no longer see the benefit of staying out of this until it catches up with us, no matter what we do. Most probably my people will be extinguished when this is over but that doesn't necessarily mean that everybody else must perish, too. So I tried to find my own solution for the dilemma the Druids are in. Whether we are going to die by the Shadow Army's cruelty or whether we will live in name only, having lost our souls."

He inhaled deeply. "I don't know if it's canting hypocrisy or not but I've found a solution for _me_. If you want to have me, I am willing to lead you and your army through the mountains with Morgana's and Morgause's support. Given another week before your army is ready you should reach Camelot only two weeks after the Mercian army's initial assaults."

Suddenly all spoke and shouted at once. "Madness" Arthur heard. "Utter lunacy! The mountains in winter! Absolutely impossible. The men will die before we even see Camelot!"

Moredan continued smiling in the same sad, forlorn way and suddenly Arthur was sick of the others' childish, pretentious behaviour. "Silence!" he shouted. Had he known how much he sounded like his father in this moment, he hadn't been _that_ astonished when everybody was hushed immediately.

"For me as well as for the Ladies Morgana and Morgause the word of the Druids' High Councillor is more than enough" the Prince stated. "As so far nobody has had a better idea I say we accept his offer. Seven days from now we will begin our march through the mountains towards Camelot. And for those who want to continue the fruitless discussions: I want to remind everyone that King Olaf entrusted the command of his troops to _me_!"

It didn't convince anybody but it silenced everybody. As Arthur had once learned from his father: Sometimes this had to suffice.

Seven days later the army marched off. Arthur's foster sister and Morgause had managed to bring in a handful more men from some places Arthur didn't want to ask too many questions about. As good as possible the men – and women! - as well as the animals had been equipped with winter-proof clothing and gear but time had been very short and Olaf's men were lowlanders. In their country as well as in Camelot winters were comparatively mild. The mountains didn't know the word 'mild'.

They began their ascent on the third day of their march and the mountains received them as they obviously planned to treat them for the rest of the way. The wind was icy and strong, the ground, covered with ice and snow, torturous to human feet and horse hoofs alike while the cold took hold of them and didn't let go any more. Within a week Arthur wanted nothing more but to lie down, never to get up again.

Moredan and the two sorceresses took turns to fight the weather conditions as well as the other obstacles the territory provided but while they succeeded in making a passage possible they could do nothing whatsoever to make it comfortable.

When they reached the highest point of the mountain pass they had to take before the long descent towards the plateau Camelot Castle was situated on, they all thought they'd never make it. In spite of the magicians' efforts and all possible care Arthur had already lost some men and more horses than he cared to think about.

Due to the previous exposure the descent seemed no less unendurable than the ascent had been. Only three days before Camelot would come into sight the weather improved and the march became easier. Nevertheless the day the army reached the edge of the mountain scape with its last wooded shelter before they would finally approach the battle scene Arthur ordered a halt and a 48 hours rest.

"Are you nuts?" Morgana was absolutely furious. "Don't you hear that clamour? Can't you see the smoke over there? That's our _home_ being destroyed, in case you haven't noticed. 48 hours? Camelot could be completely destroyed by then!"

A long time ago Arthur had stopped wondering how on earth Morgana could combine her fierce, unwavering loyalty to him and to Camelot with her likewise fierce aversion against King Uther. This aversion was a fact, although Arthur didn't believe a word of the wild story one of the younger Druids had told him back in Vayatanu. Surely Merlin hadn't tried to kill Morgana with poison to save Uther's life.

In this moment at the mountains' edge, the Prince was tired to the bone and had no strength left to ponder his sister's twisted motivations. "And Camelot _will be_ destroyed if this army isn't able to fight as soon as we meet the enemy!" was all he said.

Arthur sent a silent prayer to every deity that might be listening in when Morgana backed down. "Sorry, Arthur" she muttered. "I should not have said that."

Everybody was exhausted. As for Moredan, the old Druid looked as if he were about to sleep on his feet any moment now. Besides Morgana and Morgause all the others with at least some magical abilities had given their best to support him but, as Arthur had learned the hard way, the degree of power and ability varied between magicians as much as it varied between swordsmen, craftsmen or everybody else. From the few things Moredan had told him during their rests on the way the Prince had begun to understand that the 'magic profession', as he called it to himself, was as much a blend of inborn talent, training and ability to grow as his own profession as a warrior had always been. The Master Sorcerer had told him, with an apologizing smile, that, except the two ladies, the others were mostly what he called 'part time magicians'. They were also people who had always been afraid of their own potential due to Uther's and the other rulers' war against magic.

And so the worn out men, women and animals settled down to rest.

However, Morgana had told the truth and Arthur found no peace from the distant sounds of the battle field his home had become. It was hard just to sit there and do nothing while he didn't know whether his father and friends were still alive. To distract himself, Pendragon once more talked with Moredan about magic. The subject fascinated the young man more and more. After all these…...misunderstandings – Arthur still steadfastly refused to call them lies – his father had told him about magicians he could hardly refrain from pestering the old Druid with questions.

The bulk of the strain caused by the passage had been with the Master Sorcerer as Morgana had only just begun to explore her gifts as a seer and Morgause specialized in fighting but not in controlling natural powers. The Druids' High Councillor tried to explain things to the Prince in more detail "When I was his age not even I could choose my field of action as freely as Merlin can do now. Under normal circumstances, if he wants to have a thunderstorm he will have one" Moredan said "but not even the probably most powerful sorcerer of many generations can have _all_ the gifts. He is no seer. If he had Morgana's gifts he'd never allowed you to leave your castle during the last two years."

Arthur took offence at that. Poor, skinny, clumsy Merlin the most powerful sorcerer in many generations! Yeah, sure! "It's not as if _I_ would have needed _his_ permission to leave my father's castle" he said hotly.

"Are you so sure about that?" Moredan smiled. "I know you think that _you_ have somehow adopted _him _but couldn't it be that it was just the other way round? At least sometimes?"

In spite of Moredan's mockery being gentle and tampered by kindness, Arthur's face grew hot. "Let's just say we both try to take care of each other as best we can and leave it at that, shall we?"

"If you wish" Moredan said."I only wanted to say that your friendship is very precious, for the two of you but also for all of us. Our very future may depend on it."

Arthur had another hot headed reply on his lips but gulped it down when something much more important came into his mind. "Do you think my father killed him after he came back to Camelot on my order?"

"No" Moredan said with certainty. "First of all, as long as Merlin has his wits about him your father couldn't kill him except for Merlin allowing it to happen. And second, even from here I can feel him. Our young warlock is in Camelot, trying to defend the fortifications against the Dark Power's magical assault in this very moment. Surely he wouldn't – couldn't – do that without Uther's consent?"

This brought Arthur to his feet. "Really? How are they? What exactly are they doing? What are their chances? Where are the others?"

"And what is the colour of the hangings in your throne room? Arthur, I can't see any details. I know they are alive, that's all."

"But surely you must know _something!_" Arthur was actually pleading now without even knowing it. "How does Merlin _feel_? Is he afraid? Or confident? What?"

Moredan shook his head. "I've already told you everything I know. I am sure that Merlin and your father are cooperating. Merlin has cast a spell to protect your stronghold and so far he is holding out quite well. I am afraid you have to be satisfied with that."

The Master Sorcerer felt his heart go out to the anxious man in front of him. He kept to himself that Merlin, after he had kept it up for a longer time than Moredan would have thought possible, was approaching total exhaustion and defeat. No use to burden the young Prince with that now. Arthur had still a very important role to play in this affair and in order to play it he and his troops had to survive the fighting that was about to take place. If things were rushed now, everything could still be lost.

Much more tensed than he had been in a very long time Moredan waited for the possibility to use a chance Merlin's obstinate fight had given to the Master Sorcerer; a chance he never would have hoped for.

Maybe the end of the Druid people was not as near as he had thought. And maybe, just maybe, it had been the right decision after all, that these two unlikely friends, Prince and Warlock, had escaped the Druids' well meant protective custody to find their own solution.


	10. Collateral damage

**10. Collateral damage**

"Merlin? Merlin!" The voice was very far away but nevertheless annoying.

"Let me sleep" the warlock whispered. "Please, I want to sleep."

"You can't sleep now! How dare you? Our battlements are crumbling!" Now the voice somehow seemed to have grown arms which violently shook the wizard. "Wake _up_, damn you!"

"Can't" Merlin slurred. "Go away."

"Like hell I will!" The voice was nearer now. It slapped him, hard. Once, twice. How could a voice do that? "Wake up, I tell you, before I break your miserable neck. I need a sorcerer, not a lazy servant."

Spitting and coughing Merlin came to after a bucket of water had soaked him through and through. "What….?

"Yeah, _what_!" Almost mad with rage and fright Uther slapped the young man's face once more. "I tell you _what_. You take a little nap and we lose our outer walls. They've crumbled to ashes under the Mercians' magical assault. It was an almost total loss. The Mercian troops are raging like wild beasts among the people we had sheltered there. Less than a quarter of our soldiers made it back to the inner fortifications in one piece!"

This was the moment in which Merlin knew that it was over. The protective spell had vanished as soon as he had fallen asleep. With every bone and nerve in his body he felt that he had no strength left to rebuild it, let alone maintain it.

"We must leave here, Uther" he said, forgetting about decorum. "We must make a last stand in the vaults. This way I can try to defend the coffin of the Dark Power's second half while you, Gaius and the others can make a run for it."

"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" The King was aghast at the very notion of giving up. "We cannot run. We have a castle to defend, remember? It's what Arthur sent you to us for!"

As always this pricked the warlock's feelings more than he was able to control. Exhaustion and weariness momentarily forgotten he jumped upwards and yelled for all he was worth. "Stop telling me what Arthur would have wanted or not! He isn't here. I do not even know if he's still alive or if the creature extinguished the Druid retreat before it came here." Despite his anger his voice began to waver. "All I know is that I am done for, d'you hear me? I'm done for and I cannot fight this thing any longer and I cannot defend the walls and I do not know what I could do at all and I…, I…..want you and Gaius and the others out of here before you're torn to pieces along with everybody else. Dear Gods, is this so hard to understand?"

"I take it then that you have cracked, that you didn't stand the pressure of the first opportunity for you to really _be_ the great master sorcerer you always thought you were." Merciless in his own fear and at a loss of what to do Uther actually relished in the possibility to shift responsibility for the imminent doom of everything he had and was to somebody else.

"Don't you get it, Uther? It's _over_! Camelot will _fall_! Neither I nor any other magician in Albion will survive the reunion of the two halves and there is no one and nothing here that could prevent this reunion. But you aren't a magician, none of you is and Gaius might just slip the creature's attention. You _must_ run before the creature comes here."

Merlin was desperate by now. "For heaven's sake, man, you're the one who keeps telling me what your son would have wanted or not. Do you really think he'd want _you_ to die for _nothing_?"

"Better to die for nothing than to _be_ nothing" Uther said "but I don't think you'd ever understand that. Go to the vaults if you want to take your chances there. I will go back to my people where I belong, knowing that I have been right about you sorcerers all along. Worthless scum you all have been and that's all you ever will be to all eternity. I'm through with you." With that he spat out and went away.

Gaius left the corner he had been standing in and took Merlin's arm. "Let's go, my boy. I'm coming with you."

The warlock looked at his uncle incredulously and with so much hurt that the physician winced. "He didn't even try to understand what I said. Why? What have I done wrong? I had no more chance to go on fighting than a knight would have had after his right arm had been cut off. Why doesn't he understand that it is over?"

"Merlin, he understands that well enough but he understands how magic works as you understand that a King wants to go down with his realm – which means you both understand nothing at all. The two of you are living in different worlds, you always have been. Now come on."

They reached the vault with Sigan's burial site with the entrance to the cave of the second coffin in the very moment the King reached the ring of the inner battlements.

The noise and the commotion of the battle were unbelievable. Shouting, screaming, and the clamour of arms added to the horrible sounds that were to be heard from what happened between the outer and the inner wall ring where the Mercian troops caused havoc among the people who were trapped there. The sight gave the defenders of the inner battlements a perfect picture of what would happen to them should the inner fortifications fall. Literally cornered against the wall they fought for all they were worth. Hot pitch, swords, stone catapults or crossbows – the King knew that, if the walls held out, the Mercians wouldn't have a chance to storm the castle.

But Uther could see for himself that Merlin had spoken the truth at least when it came to the situation of the fortifications. The battlements wouldn't hold out. The first rifts could already be seen in the walls now that the creature could entirely focus on the inner ring. From what Pendragon had seen so far it would barely be another hour before the inner ring would also fall and the way to the main castle would be open. It would be possible to make a last stand inside the castle buildings for a few hours but for all those who had found shelter between the main castle and the wall rings the downfall of the inner ring would mean the end.

He opened his mouth to order the evacuation of the inner battlements when the guard officer at his side grabbed his sleeve. "Your Majesty! Over there! King Olaf's banners. They are marching towards the enemy's back."

At the head of the marching troops Arthur was stupefied with horror at the extent of the devastation the attackers had caused. Even from a distance the complete annihilation of the outer battlements was visible and the commotion he heard spoke loudly of what was happening there now. All his instincts told him to part his forces, to order the fighters on foot to attack the unprotected back of the besieging forces while the cavalry charged at top speed towards the castle to reinforce the people who were trapped between the enemy assault troops and the closed off inner walls.

However he knew this would have been foolish. His troops hadn't been that strong from the very beginning and the march through the mountains hadn't exactly added to their strength. Better to roll up the Mercian troops from behind with an unexpected full scale attack against their back, thereby forcing them to retreat from Camelot's walls altogether.

Arthur turned to Moredan who rode at his side to tell him to withdraw from the ranks of the soldiers together with the two women but the Master Sorcerer caught his arm. "Arthur, do you see the big tent there, in the last row in front of the baggage train? It has the royal banner of Mercia. There he must be, Marcus, the man who's carrying the Dark Force inside himself."

Morgause closed her helmet. "All right then, leave the sleaze-bag to me. I'll make him my priority target."

"You will do nothing of the kind" Arthur said as commandingly as he could. "You and your sister will stay behind, together with Moredan here. I can't afford to lose even one of you. I haven't that many sorcerers in my ranks and I think that I will need magicians before this is over."

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur Pendragon. What you need now are swords and my sword once beat you and I didn't even need magic to do it. Are you with me, Morgana?"

"Yes!"

"That's settled then."

"So much for my command" Arthur thought. "Oh to hell with it, she's right and you know it." He turned to the Druid. "Moredan….."

"Do not trouble yourself with worries about me. I will be most comfortable over there until you will have succeeded in putting an end to this madness" and he gestured towards the forest edge.

"All right then" Arthur said. As soon as the old magician had withdrawn he gave the signal to attack.

"My Lord, the enemy is attacking our back. Our people there are almost overrun." Lord Kiringere, Mercia's most senior knight, didn't trust his ears. "_What_?"

The young soldier repeated his message. Kiringere rode to the next elevated spot and stared at his troops' back line, camp and baggage train. What he saw made his stomach turn. His forces were rolled up from behind. The enemy, whoever they were, had already advanced deeply into the Mercian battle lines on a broad scale. The knight's heart began to race at the sight of a group of enemy knights approaching the royal tent which they all had thought to be safely out of reach for everyone.

"Where is King Marcus?" he yelled.

"Not in his tent, My Lord, rest assured. I saw him leave it with a few men barely an hour ago. They rode towards Camelot."

Kiringere almost bent over with relief. Even near the besieged castle Marcus would be safer right now than in his tent. Besides, his master's absence saved the Lord the trouble to discuss his next orders with his Commander-in-Chief first. "Give order to our troops at the Camelot walls to retreat towards our back at once. Our troops are to turn as soon as our storm troops have disengaged from the Camelot defenders."

"But My Lord, what if King Uther uses the opportunity to order a sortie that catches up with our retreating forces?"

Kiringere grinned fiercely. "Look at the castle you fool. Listen to what's happening there. There won't be any sortie, ever again. They will need all their strength to survive until we can come back for them. Now get off your but!""

Morgause reached the tent with the royal banner and dismounted. She finished off the remaining guards with a few sword cuts and entered, closely followed by her sister Morgana. They searched the tent twice. It was empty.

Virtually howling with rage Morgana rode back to Arthur. "He isn't there. The god damned monster isn't in there, the tent's abandoned!"

Arthur closed his eyes in momentarily frustration. "Do you have any idea where he could be found? As soon as he's dead this will be over."

"I don't know where he is" she snapped. "And before you ask, no, I have no idea how to find him either."

"Morendar? Where is he? He's the only one who could find the accursed man!" Arthur craned his neck to where Morendar should be visible, if barely. The Druid was nowhere to be seen. "What the hell…"

"Arthur watch out" Morgause yelled at the tops of her lungs. The Prince turned once more towards the battle lines and froze. The enemy lines were turning and reinforcements flocked to the former back lines as the Mercian troops detached themselves from the siege and went back. King Marcus had to wait.

A few minutes later, fighting began in earnest for Arthur's men.

Morendar had reached the outskirts of the Camelot fortifications. He panted heavily from the, for him, unusually hard and fast ride. He had rushed off to Camelot the moment Arthur had turned his back on him and so far his magic abilities had protected him from being detected. The Mercians' attention was focused on their retreat and re-formation anyway. The Druid felt that he was closing up on the creature. It was near now, very near. As was Merlin. The Master Sorcerer felt the young warlock's anxiety and apprehension as if it were his own. "Soon" Morendar thought as comfortingly as he could. "Soon, my boy. You will not have to go through this alone!" He sensed the young man's relief and expectation for an answer. He intensified his search for an entrance to the next part of the castle, not daring to weaken his magic's strength by using it to force his entry.

The creature had had no such qualms. The moment they had reached Camelot's destroyed outer walls the men of 'King Marcus' escort had stopped breathing. They had been a menace anyway with their constant rambling on about what and what not to do. Subsequently the creature had forced its way through the remaining walls. The Dark Force had let go of any pretence and the human body it inhabited had once more taken on the appalling appearance it had had in the 'Kings' bedchamber two months ago. The creature ripped of the last adornments from 'Marcus' weapons' coat by which the status of its human vessel could be identified.

It felt the warlock's presence, the pathetic imbecile whom it had encountered and defeated before. Inwardly it chuckled while it continued its way to the vault, to the second coffin. Then it hesitated. Another presence had entered the castle. It was coming nearer and nearer. Another simpleton who didn't understand what he was up against? He seemed...stronger than the other one. Not as powerful, but more stable. Resolved.

The creature chuckled once again. What of it? Nobody and nothing could prevent the reunification of the two halves now and afterwards both magicians would cease to exist. It continued its way to the castle vaults, unseen and unheard, except by the two sorcerers.

Uther felt his knees buckle with relief at the sight of the retreating Mercian forces. It was clear that they were needed to fend off the reinforcements which had arrived on the battlefield like a heaven-sent miracle. However Pendragon wasn't foolish enough to believe that the comparatively small troops could withstand the full strength of the Mercian army. As soon as Olaf's troops were finished, the attackers would be back and Uther knew that his fortifications wouldn't survive another attack. Besides he had this nagging feeling that these reinforcements had something to do with Arthur. If that was so, his son wouldn't fight this battle alone!

"Gather our troops" the King told his guard officer. "Every man who can still sit on a horse is to join us. I will lead this sortie myself."

"But Your Grace" the man protested "we are hardly able to tend to our wounded and to fight off marauding Mercian mercenaries who didn't follow the order to retreat. Besides, if we lose any more men we will no longer be able to man the battlements when the Mercians renew their storm."

Uther lost the last shred of his patience. "If the Mercians defeat these reinforcements there will be no need to man these battlements again. And as for the wounded and the rest of the grief-stricken humanity out there they will all go to a better world if the Mercians make it back here, so I DO NOT CARE what becomes of them now. And now go and pass on my orders or I will cut off your damned stupid head here and now!" He half unsheathed his sword and the man ran off as if all hell was after him.

20 minutes later the sortie troops galloped out of the inner wall through the debris of the former outer fortifications, trampling down dead and living bodies on their way, friend and foe alike, without looking. Uther fell onto the Mercians' newly formed backlines with a ferocious impact. Kiringere was crestfallen when he saw that the unexpected attack from behind brought his lines into total confusion. Arthur's troops pressed harder towards the castle the moment he gathered what happened in the Mercians' back. The Prince knew that this increased pressure endangered the fighters of the sortie forces but it also robbed the Mercians of space to move.

Knowing that no one would survive a Mercian victory, Camelot's troops as well as Arthur's men fought with desperate force. Both Pendragons submerged in a nightmare of noise, stench and physical exhaustion as the violent fighting went on and on.

With the two women fighting near by Arthur wielded his sword without a conscious thought. Thrust, swing, parry and swing again as he had done so often before. It came as easy to him as it had always come, like a natural instinct. And yet this was different. This was not as it had been in the tournaments. This wasn't sport. The Prince had been in serious fights before but never in an outright, full scale battle. While his horse's hooves pranced on the ground, feeling uneasy on a surface which was slippery with blood and dead or wounded people, Arthur found out that he had no taste for war. Cutting into human flesh or parrying blows which were meant to kill or maim one's body as bad as possible wasn't especially heroic. Instead this orgy of hatred and destruction was appalling and degrading for everyone involved as it reduced sensible human beings to killing beasts.

Deep inside him the Prince suddenly knew that he would never start such devastation for power or territorial expansion or forcing his ideas onto somebody else, no matter what others would expect of him in future. It wasn't worth it. It couldn't be worth _this_. The young man who had always been so proud of his outstanding warrior skills felt one thing very strongly. If it hadn't been for his father's voice he could hear from the other side of the battle field, if these broken walls, devastated landscape and tormented inhabitants hadn't belonged to his home, his country and his people he would have laid down his sword then and there for sheer disgust, no matter what this would have meant for him.

Peculiarly this didn't keep him from feeling mortal hate towards the enemy every time he saw one of his men fall. The fear for those dear to him who were also in this nightmare added to his emotional turmoil until he fought even harder, thinking that this may somehow bring it all to an end. As it was, it took them another two hours before Kiringere admitted defeat. 30 minutes later, the last Mercians had discarded their weapons and surrendered.

Only when Kiringere himself surrendered his sword to Uther it became obvious that the Mercians had no idea of where King Marcus was to be found.


	11. Silent war

**11. Silent war**

Uther for once forgot all decorum, his dignity and, most of all, his former wrath, as he embraced his son right there on the battle field. "My boy. Dear Gods, Arthur I thought I'd lost you forever."

In a mixture of exhaustion, a delayed reaction to fear and battle strain as well as relief that Uther had obviously forgiven his son's escape with Merlin, Arthur let himself well-nigh fall into his father's arms. Morgana and Morgause winced inwardly, grateful that their chainmail and closed helmets protected them from being recognized by the King.

Uther was beside himself with enthusiasm at the unexpected salvation from complete destruction. "My son, I should have known you'd come and slay this damned creature in his own tent! Well done."

Arthur plunked from hilarious joy to ice cold apprehension in the split of a second. "What do you mean? We couldn't find Marcus. I thought you had killed him as it was obviously Kiringere who surrendered to you."

When Uther paled at the implication of that and was momentarily at a loss of what to say, a horrible thought formed in Arthur's mind. "Father, where's Merlin? Why isn't he here?"

The King knew full well that his next words would reopen the rift between him and his son that had first been caused by Arthur's friendship to the young sorcerer. "He wanted to make a last stand against the creature in the castle vaults at the entrance to the burial site of the second coffin. I said if he was too weak to defend the castle fortifications he might as well go there."

Arthur didn't want to believe it. "You let him go to face the Dark Power _alone_? You did not even try to give him some men who might have succeeded in killing the human vessel? After all he's done for us? For _you_? And what do you mean by being too weak? How long did he keep up this protective spell?"

"He lasted barely a week. Then he just fell asleep!" Uther said defensively.

Arthur sickened at the thought. He remembered Moredan's fight against the winter's powers in the mountains. A Master Sorcerer with a lifetime of training and experience, two strong young women, albeit untrained and a bunch of other magicians for at least part time relief and it had cost the Druid almost his last reserves. The Prince looked at the vast outskirts of Camelot's fortifications which had crumbled under the creature's assault and tried to get an impression of the power the Dark Force had invested in this attack. And the skinny, fragile, vulnerable boy had fought it off all by himself. For a whole _week_!

"Father, take care of the Mercian army!" Uther stared disbelievingly at his son's back while the Prince galloped off at top speed, closely followed by these two young, slender knights who had been at his side.

Arthur jumped off his horse in front of the castle entrance nearest to the vaults and ran down the stairs until he reached the corridor which led to the old part with Cornelius Sigan's burial site. On his arrival he found an astonishing sight.

Gaius lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious or dead. Moredan knelt at the left wall, cradling a foreigner in his arms. Merlin was nowhere to be seen.

"Moredan! What are you doing here?" While he took the Druid by the shoulder Arthur could see the foreigner's plump face. Blood ran from the nose and out of the ears and the eyes were turned upwards. He stammered something inaudible. His hands and legs twitched helplessly. Horrified Pendragon watched the dying man start a raging cough. More blood flowed from his mouth. Then he was dead.

Moredan looked up at the Prince. "He's gone" the old man whispered. "The poor fool didn't even know what he was tampering with until it was too late. The Dark Force fed on his very soul and then it threw him away like garbage." His face white, his body sweaty the Druid looked as if he were about to follow the other man every instant now.

"This is Marcus? _You _defeated the creature?" Only now the Prince saw the silver box with the leaden lining. So this had been what Moredan had been carrying around all this time.

"Arthur, forgive me" Moredan said. "Now I've let you both down!"

In this very moment Arthur felt a sword point press into his neck. He grabbed for his own sword but it was ripped off his belt with the scabbard and thrown far out of reach as if by an invisible hand together with his knife.

"Get up and turn around!" Slowly Pendragon followed the order while the sword never left his neck. With a dreadful feeling of inevitability he looked into Merlin's face.

It was obvious that this face no longer belonged to his friend. The deep black eyes, the vicious grin and the contorted grimace, nothing bore any similarity to the young warlock who had posed as the Prince's loyal manservant for more than two years.

"So that's the once and future King" the creature said. The voice was as much a misshapen parody of Merlin's as the face. "The one the Druids wanted to hide from me at any cost. They should have taken better care of you as well as of the one whose body I now use."

"What have you done to him? Is he dead?" Arthur didn't know whether he'd preferred a yes or a no for an answer.

"Who knows?" the creature said dismissively. "But as soon as I am whole again there will be no sorcerer left in this world anyway. Never again will they tear me apart. Now go!"

The sword pressed harder against Arthur's skin and he backed off, towards the once more open entrance to Sigan's burial chamber. As soon as he entered it he saw that the back wall had also been burst open. Behind it was another, so far undetected room, with a bigger version of Moredan's silver box buried in the floor. The lid was hinged back and showed a second, leaden box inside that shimmered in an iridescent light.

Suddenly Arthur heard feet running down the corridor towards them. Two female voices shouted at each other while Morgause and Morgana hurried to Moredan's side who had collapsed on the corridor floor.

"Be quiet" the creature hissed at his captive and used the sword point to give emphasis to the command.

The Prince had no intention to obey. He backed off a step and yelled "Morgana, get out of here, now!" while he went for the creature's sword. He grabbed the wrist that held the blade and managed to wrench it free. Astonishingly the creature just let it happen. Only when the two women stormed through the door of the burial chamber it raised his hands. The air rippled in front of the outstretched fingers and all of a sudden both women were thrown through the room and crashed against the walls. Their bodies slumped down on the floor.

With an outcry Arthur wielded his sword against his enemy's head only to stop himself short a centimetre before the blade could hit Merlin's neck.

The creature smiled. "Why don't you go on? Scruples to kill your friend?"

All of a sudden Arthur felt his strength vanish from his arms. Panting he looked at the distorted persiflage of Merlin's familiar features. Still smiling the creature ripped the sword of his hand and threw it away. "We don't need such toys anyhow."

Almost casually it took Arthur's left wrist and twisted his arm on his back with unnatural physical strength Merlin never could have mustered. The Prince struggled against the hold but the creature pulled mercilessly. The shoulder was put out of joint and Arthur doubled over under the hot and searing pain. Only now he saw that his attacker had forced him down directly at the second coffins side. When the creature used his injured arm to bring his head even nearer to the lid of the leaden box Arthur began to kick desperately, trying to reach the feet of his opponent.

The creature didn't care at all. It let go of his wrist, grabbed his shoulders instead and turned him around until his back was lying over the opening that harboured the second coffin. Unmoved by Arthur's desperate struggling it took both his wrists, stretched his arms over his head and pinned them down with one hand until the Prince was trapped on the ground, with his neck stretched above the lid of the box. Arthur screamed when his dislocated shoulder was strained.

"You know" the distorted voice said into the young man's ear "I've been wondering for quite some time whose blood it should be that opened the coffin of my second half. Isn't it very befitting that it should be yours?"

When he felt the knife blade touch his skin Arthur gave up his struggle. No longer wanting to look into the face which had once belonged to his friend he closed his eyes and waited for the blade to thrust home.

Outside in the corridor Moredan stirred when he heard Merlin scream in his head. Every muscle and every joint in his bated body hurt but the Druid resolutely banned the pain to the back of his awareness as he had learned to do many a decade ago. He pulled himself to his feet and shuffled into the second chamber.

Moredan flinched at the sight of the two female bodies lying on the floor like dolls, crushed by a vicious child's foot. The sight of Arthur's trapped body in the perfect position above the pit turned his stomach into a tight knot. Although he had expected something like this it was terrifying to see how close the creature had come to complete the reopening of the second coffin. However, as he had hoped when he had heard Merlin's horrified voice in his mind, the blade didn't move. With whatever power the creature tried to press home, the hand wouldn't obey.

Once more Moredan felt Merlin's fight against the creature's hold as if it were his own mind that had been invaded. The Dark Force's desire to be finally released from the necessity to use a human body at all was overwhelming. Only after its reunion with its second half it would shed its physical existence to once more become the invincible, god like power it craved to be. Impatience and wrath weakened the creature's concentration which, for now, was liable to almost the same rules of magic which formed the 'natural laws' to which a powerful human magician was submitted. Someone like, let's say, Merlin. Or an old Master Sorcerer of the Druid High Council.

Silently the old Druid focused his magical power and let go. The energy ball hit Merlin's body between the shoulder blades. The creature toppled over and lost hold of the knife. With an enraged outcry it turned its face to Moredan and hit back. The Druid staggered on his feet but managed to let go another stream of energy which also hit home with some ferocity.

Now the creature focused in earnest on the adversary it had thought to be defeated. It let go of Arthur and rose to its feet. When the young man tried to pull away it hit his head until he curled himself up and lay still.

Moredan saw the creature come for him and fired his magical energy at it for a last time before he himself was knocked of his feet by a stunning blow. He stayed down, desperately hoping that this had been enough to let the creature's control over Merlin sufficiently slip. The Druid was rewarded for his tenacity when he watched the creature come to a standstill, then shake its head impatiently. In his mind the Master Sorcerer felt Merlin grow stronger. The creature's impatience grew and became unendurable. With a last frustrated gnarl it left Merlin's body and came for Moredan who lay on the floor. To control him in his weakened state would be much easier.

Arthur watched something like a dark mist emanate from Merlin's body and creep towards Moredan. The young warlock fell down to the floor, with blood flowing from his nose and ears. Unbelievably the old Druid smiled at Pendragon shortly before the creature entered his body and his face went blank.

A second later the old man's body rose. The creature stretched its new muscles before it went back to the Prince. Once again Arthur made a feeble attempt to back off but it was to no avail. The creature just gripped his hair and pulled him back to the pit. Arthur's resistance ceased. Only when it took his left wrist to pull up his arms once more he brought his right hand up with all his remaining strength.

Incredulous, with an indescribable expression on the stolen face the creature stared at the knife that it had lost hold of during Moredan's initial attack and which was now buried in the old man's heart up to the hilt.

A screeching howl echoed through the chamber and the creature fumbled at its chest in a vain attempt to retrieve the blade. Still screaming in a high-pitched tone it jumped to its feet and stumbled backwards, away from the pit.

The horrid, unearthly howl was still to be heard while the Druid's body began to decay in front of Arthur's eyes although the creature in it still made it twitch and struggle. Only when the flesh had melted from the bones and the brown skeleton had tumbled to the floor all sounds and movements ceased.

For a moment all Pendragon could hear was his own, ragged breathing. Then he pulled himself together and crawled away from the pit. To his surprise the shimmering light which had covered the leaden box was gone and the lid was somewhat gauged, as if a supporting weight inside the box had suddenly vanished.

Once he had made it to Merlin's body, Arthur tried to reach for the boy's pulse but he backed off when the young warlock stirred. The Prince was hell-bent on bringing his friend out of here. He would only rest a minute or two and then he would lift Merlin and carry him upstairs, to call for help. He was still thinking about the best way to do this when he finally passed out.


	12. Loose ends, tight knots

**12 Lose ends, tight knots**

"I am fed up with it" Arthur whispered. "I'm really sick to the back teeth with it."

"Brychan, come here at once!" someone shouted next to the Prince's ear with a less than considerate tone and volume of voice. The young man almost jumped up from the bed. At least that's what he thought he was going to do until his left shoulder taught him otherwise. He screamed when the pain shot through his body and reminded him that someone had pulled his shoulder out of joint.

"Brychan! I said, _at once_!

Arthur heard someone bustling to his side and then a cool hand touched his face. "Maybe Your Majesty could consider speaking a little bit quieter" a soft voice said very gently. "I would imagine that, under the circumstances, His Highness might find that a wee bit more convenient in his present state."

"My son is mumbling and screaming. Is this meant to comfort me or what? If that's as far as your glorious Druid healing art goes you can go to hell with it!" Uther was furious now. "If Gaius were here…"

"But he isn't, Your Grace" the same, soft, gentle voice replied with utmost patience. "And I take it that your son has been in better shape than he is right now."

"You bet he has been. Just now he's said that he is feeling sick again!"

Arthur decided to wake up now. He didn't want to but he found he had no other choice. This Brychan person, whoever he was, lacked Gaius' ability to tame the King and Uther definitely sounded as if nobody in his right mind would wish him to become even more upset.

"I only meant I'm fed up with being knocked over the head only to wake up some place, hearing people talk about me as if I weren't there. It happens far too frequently these days" he tried his best to explain himself.

"It seems the concussion has lost most of its effect." This was Brychan again.

The Prince opened his eyes and stared into a young, unfamiliar face that smiled most kindly.

"Arthur, my boy" Uther was now all gentleness as he sat down at his son's side. "How do you feel?"

"I have felt better. What happened?"

"Can't you remember anything?"

Arthur tried but his memory consisted only of blurred pictures that made no sense at all. He shook his head and winced at the pain this caused.

Brychan thought it wiser to interfere. "If Your Majesty were to leave now for half an hour I could finish the treatment. I assure you you'll find His Highness much improved afterwards."

Very reluctantly Uther let go of his son's hand and rose. "But remember I didn't give you permission to mess around with your magic."

"Father, if I've learned one thing then that the Druids know what they are doing with their powers" Arthur whispered, without thinking of how he should have come by this knowledge. He felt nauseous, confused and very weak, not at all up to a conversation with the worried King.

As soon as the door had closed behind his father, Arthur tried to look at his surroundings. To his astonishment he recognized Uther's bedchamber. "Why am I here?"

"Your father thought it wiser to have you in here. And frankly, so did I. Your own rooms are occupied by as many wounded as we could squeeze in, as are virtually all other available rooms in the castle and the city."

Brychan saw his patient try to sit up and quickly pressed him back down. "I know you don't understand this right now but if you allow me to finish your treatment I promise your memories will come back completely."

"What…are you going to do?"

The Druid smiled once more. "Just relax and close your eyes. Let me do the rest."

As soon as Arthur felt the warm, comforting sensation of Brychan's healing spell he murmured "you're sure my father won't have your head for that?"

The last thing he heard before he slept was the young healer's friendly voice. "Oh I don't think so. Not anymore!"

Other than Brychan had made Uther believe the Prince slept through the night and through most of the following day but when he came to he remembered everything and for a second he wished he hadn't woken up at all.

At least until he found Gaius at his side, asleep in an armchair.

When it came to consideration for others Arthur was very much his father's son at times. "Gaius! There you are. Where have you been? Where's Merlin?"

The physician almost fell from the chair while Arthur pulled at his arm impatiently. Groggily he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. At the sight of the young man in front of him he smiled in spite of his tiredness. "Sire. It's good to see you back on your feet!"

Only now the Prince registered that he didn't feel any pain or weakness at all. It had all vanished. "Gaius what happened to you down there? Where's Merlin? Are we safe now?"

Although Uther had once pressed him into promising that he would never do so again the healer pulled his young master into a close hug, as he had often done when Arthur had been a child. "I wished your father could have told you this as he wished to do but he won't be back in Camelot for another week." He paused for a moment "Merlin is no longer with us, Arthur."

Gaius felt the body in his arms grow stiff. "Is he….?" These were the words Arthur had been afraid he'd hear.

"Not even I know whether he's alive or dead. I was unconscious when your father found you and him in the vaults, together with Morgana, her sister and what seems to have been King Marcus' body. One of the Druids from your troops was with Uther at that time. As you can imagine the King didn't need much persuasion to bring you out first. The moment Uther had left you with one of the combat healers he came back for the others but Merlin and Morgana had disappeared without a trace. Your father took care that I was taken to a healer and had the two bodies retrieved."

"_Two _bodies? Do you want to say that Morgause is dead?" Arthur remembered her as she had been in the battle. Fierce and strong, vibrant with life. So very beautiful. She couldn't be dead!

"She must have been killed the moment her body hit the wall. Her neck was broken when your father found her." Gaius sighed. "We got a message from the Druid elders the next day. They assured us that Morgana was going to be fine and that they were sure that you had destroyed the Dark Force once and for all when you killed the human vessel. There was no need for further containment of any sort."

"But what about Merlin?"

"They said he had been obsessed by the Dark Force for some hours, Arthur." The physician fought back his own sorrow and loss while he tried to explain the inexplicable. "The Druids thought him to be an inacceptable risk. I'm sure they will try to heal him if they can but most of all they wanted to make sure that he hadn't been ….. taken over, you see, like Sigan once was."

Gaius almost toppled over when Arthur suddenly jumped to his feet. "How could you allow them to take him, just like that? How dare they? They weren't there, down in the vaults, _I_ was. If the creature really had had control over him I would be dead by now, you all were. It was Merlin who hindered the monster to kill me, to use my blood to open the second coffin."

The healer's shoulders fell when he saw Arthur start packing. "Where do you think you're going, Sire?"

"What does it look like? After them of course. To do what you and my father should have done while I have been ill. And if these arrogant bastards have touched one hair on his head I promise you they will remember the days of my father's rule as a time of heaven sent peace!"

"Sire, you can't do this." Silently Gaius sent a prayer to heaven. This was exactly why Uther had wished to tell his son the truth himself.

"You just sit back and watch me!"

Gaius collected all his courage and blocked the Prince's way. "Arthur, you will not leave this room except over my dead body. I have already lost a boy who was as dear to me as if he had been my own son and I will not stand by and see you run into disaster after I have helped to bring you up. I have changed your nappies more than once and I am entitled to be treated with some respect by you, Prince or no Prince!"

"Go out of my way, Gaius!"

"Then let me prepare for what you are going to see outside, _My Lord_! Camelot is in shambles, the fortifications have collapsed, we have hundreds of wounded or homeless people to take care of and the dead are buried in big pits by the dozens right now, while we are talking. We are running low on provisions, our army has been reduced by almost two thirds and the revenue of the devastated border regions to Mercia is a total loss for many a year to come. Our own barons' loyalty is questionable at best and Camelot's enemies are assembling at her borders, trying to make up their minds whether or not the apple is ripe to be eaten. We have only King Olaf for a friend and he has already given more than anyone could have expected of him."

"Go on! If you have more coming, spit it out!"

"Arthur, your father is out of his wits with worries. If you leave him now you better stay away for not even I would want to have you back here, ever again!" There. He had said it.

For a moment the physician thought these words would be his last. He had never really noticed how intimidating this handsome boy he had carried around as a child could look, now that he had grown up.

The drawn out silence became harder and harder to endure. Then Arthur turned and threw his stuff on the bed.

"My father won't be back for another week, you said?"

"Yes." Gaius cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, that's right."

"Then I take it that someone else should take things in hand right now!"

The healer slumped down on the nearest chair when the Prince had left the room. This may have been what Merlin most probably had wanted him to do but if he had known what this performance would cost the old man he would have thought twice. Gaius knew one thing for sure: He'd never breathe a word of this conversation to Uther.

12 months later the Pendragons had at least some affairs on an even keel again, albeit things were far from running smoothly. Arthur persuaded his most reluctant father to reopen the old vaults for one last time. The Prince retrieved as much as possible of the almost totally decomposed remains of Moredan's body, wrapped them up and started his long postponed journey to Vayatanu.

The way he imagined it, this journey would bring two sorcerers back home.

**FINIS**


End file.
